


December 25th

by unkindravens



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Christmas grinches, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27771256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unkindravens/pseuds/unkindravens
Summary: It's David's first Christmas in Schitt's Creek. He spends the day with Stevie, trying to ignore the holiday completely.
Relationships: Stevie Budd & David Rose
Comments: 20
Kudos: 34
Collections: Schitt's Creek: Frozen Over (2020)





	December 25th

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SCFrozenOver2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCFrozenOver2020) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> David doesn’t celebrate Christmas his first year in Schitt’s Creek, it isn’t even acknowledged, but he does spend the day with Stevie.

**25 December 2015**

The door to the motel office creaked open, accompanied with a heaving sigh.

Stevie looked up from her novel. “Having that fun a day, huh?”

David dragged his feet across the lobby and flung his upper body on the desk in front of Stevie. He sighed again.

Stevie patted his arm. “Okay, I’m gonna need you to use your words, buddy.”

“Today is just… stupid,” he mumbled.

Stevie nodded. “Hot take. No plans I gather?”

David shook his head. “I didn’t think you’d be working today.”

Stevie shrugged. “People actually need lodging this time of year, plus it gives me a good excuse for not doing anything.”

“You don’t have family here?”

“Jesus, no,” Stevie said. “They’ve all gone, thank god.”

“Prison?”

“Where, exactly, do you think I came from?”

“Well, if there were train tracks in this town,” David said, “I’d imagine the from the wrong side of them.”

“You’re not entirely wrong.” It was Stevie’s turn to sigh. “Some actually _are_ in prison. Others are dead, missing, moved far, far away. We were never the closest bunch. I mean, you met my cousin.”

“Indeed I did.” David smiled. “Those were some good days.”

“Calm down, Rose. Notice the severe lack of mistletoe.” She rifled through her messenger bag. “I do, however, have a present for you. Well, for us.”

“Please let it be drugs.”

Stevie grinned with triumph and produced a joint. “You’re welcome. Let’s go out back.”

“What if someone checks in?”

Stevie rounded the desk and grabbed David’s hand, leading him through the back door. “Fuck ‘em. Who’s gonna know?”

“Have I ever told you how much I admire the Budd work ethic?”

“Yeah, yeah, cool it, trust fund.”

“I’m poor,” David pouted. Stevie let go of his hand as they climbed onto a picnic table set far behind the back of the motel.

“Look around, man. We’re _all_ poor. A place called Schitt's Creek doesn’t exactly have a thriving tourist industry.” She lit the joint with a deep inhale and handed it to David.

“So what do you usually do on… a day like today?” David asks.

“I don’t know. Drink.”

“Then why aren’t we doing that?”

“Because it’s ten in the morning, I’m at work, and that’s a joint in your hand.”

David sputtered on an exhale and passed the joint. “Fair.”

“Twyla usually brings me food. Every year she invites me to her family’s party and every year I don’t go. Her family’s… a lot.”

David nodded. “That one is full of stories, isn’t she?”

“The crazy thing is, they’re all true.” She took another drag. “What about you? I’m picturing something ridiculous like real reindeer and maybe the Rockettes.”

“You’re not far off,” David said. “Though the Rockettes are busy this time of year. We always had a family party with a _lot_ of people I didn’t know. Those were long nights, but not entirely terrible I guess. At least Alexis was always there.”

“Aww, you missed your sister,” Stevie said, bumping his shoulder.

David huffed. “It wasn’t that so much that as I at least knew where she was.”

“Yes, I’ve heard tell of her exploits.”

“All _those_ stories are also true.”

Stevie shivered in her thin jacket. “Let’s go in, it’s fucking freezing.”

They were settled on the sofa with decorated cookies sent over by Gayle. Which would be thoughtful, if it weren’t for the gentleman in room two she wanted to keep discrete.

“What about as a kid?” David asked, grabbing another cookie. He spread his hands, like he was painting a scene before them. “I see a little Dickensian matchbook girl, roaming Main Street in search of warmth.”

“Jesus Christ, David, I had a _home_. Just a real shitty one.” He arched a brow at her. Ugh. “Fine, this time of year, amazingly, wasn’t always terrible.”

“Glowing endorsement of your parents child-rearing skills.”

“It’s the only endorsement they’ll get too.” She leaned into David, resting her head on his shoulder. Stupid weed, making her cuddly. “We didn’t have a lot, but I was an only child so I at least got all the presents. Usually there was a big dinner with one side of the family. Never both at once, even though everyone lived here.”

“Ah, your parents had a real Montague/Capulet romance.”

Stevie laughed. “In the sense that they’d sometimes get very close to killing each other, yes. They finally separated when I was like ten. And thank god, they’re a nightmare together.

“Anyway, yeah, today was kinda a good day. When I was older I started working at the motel, but even that was still with family.”

“So this is tradition then,” David said gesturing to the empty lobby.

“Sadly, yes. Yes, it is.”

The pair spent the rest of the morning cleaning rooms. Well, Stevie cleaned and David helped. Okay, Stevie cleaned and David wasn’t really any help at all.

“I’m hungry,” he whined as Stevie finished up the last room. She placed a candy cane on the fresh pillows. Nana Budd always did that, she loved the holidays. David didn’t understand why he didn’t get a candy cane on his pillow, but she pointed out that she doesn’t clean the Rose’s rooms. He pouted anyway, so she pulled one out of its cellophane, licked it, and chased him around the room threatening to stick it to his sweater. He had managed to grab and eat it, as his snacking knew no bounds.

“You’ve been eating all day,” Stevie said.

“No,” David corrected, “I’ve been _grazing_ all day. I need sit-down food.”

“Fine, let’s go to the cafe. You can buy me lunch.”

“Me? Why would I do such a thing?”

“Because we’re friends.” David cocked his head at her. “And I have another pre-roll in my bag, so let’s go.”

Winter cheer had barfed across the cafe interior, same as each year. There were three trees as well as one in each bathroom and, Stevie knew, one in the kitchen that George moved every year because it wasn’t safe around, well, all the cooking things.

Twyla bounded to them in a jaunty elf hat. “Hi, you two! What can I get you? We have a holiday surprise!”

David cleared his throat. “I’ll just have a burger, thanks.”

“Same,” Stevie said, passing her menu across the plastic snowman that she was pretty was glued to the table.

Stevie and David were in the midst of a running commentary of the patrons’ sweater choices (Roland’s said “I have a big package for you” with a naked Sanda and a strategically placed present) when Twyla dropped off their plates.

“Wow,” David said. “Thank you, this looks… great. It looks great.”

Twyla grinned and returned to the counter, her hat jingling all the way.

He leaned across the table. “Stevie, is there tinsel plated with my burger?”

Stevie looked down and began to pull the slips of silver out of her fries. “It’s… well, it’s Twyla’s favorite time of year.”

David picked up the salt shaker, shaped like a penguin. “I see.”

“So my last tradition is drinking alone at a bar, wanna join me?”

“But then you wouldn’t be alone,” David said.

Stevie regarded him a moment, then shrugged. “Close enough.”

“Thank you,” David said dryly. “So glad to spend this special day with you.”

It was an agonizingly slow afternoon at the motel. Stevie and David passed the time by watching _The Santa Clause_ , which David said was so terrible, it was a hate crime against his Jewish heritage.

Nighttime finally came and they slid into a booth at the Wobbly Elm.

“Why are we sitting on the same side?” Stevie asked as David nudged her with his hip.

“Because I’m _cold_.” David pulled off his gloves and shoved his hands underneath Stevie’s sweater.

“Jesus Christ!” she jumped. “Your hands are freezing.”

“And you’re so warm,” David sighed, snuggling into her side.

“How did I get stuck with you for the day,” she grumbled but wrapped an arm around his shoulders nonetheless.

“‘Cause I’m your favorite.”

“Yeah, but my favorite _what_?”

“Shut up.”

“You know, if you keep this up everyone’s gonna think we’re together and neither of us will get laid tonight,” Stevie told him.

David sat up and looked around. “And what sad person who had nowhere else to go were you planning on bedding tonight?”

“ _We’re_ sad people.”

David rubbed his thumbs along Stevie’s ribs. “That’s true… and it’s been nice being sad together all day.”

“Oh my god, I’m not sleeping with you, David.”

David pulled his hands away and stomped his feet. “Why not?” he pouted. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen already.”

“Wow, turn down the charm.”

“I’m just—I’m really cold.”

“I’m not going to be your cock warmer, David!”

David’s eyes lit up. “I was just thinking a quickie in the motel office, but that sounds _much_ nicer. Get under the table.”

He tried to press her head down and she swatted his hands away. “You’re disgusting, you know that?”

“Yes, and you are full of class and grace.”

“I could be graceful,” Stevie murmured, taking a swig of her beer. “You don’t know me.”

“I do too and you know it.”

“Whatever.” Stevie turned toward him. “What if we made out in my car later? Will that make you feel better?”

David frowned. “But I’m—”

“Cold, yes, I know. I’ll have the heater on, asshole.”

David sipped his drink, eyeing Stevie up and down. “Fine, I accept your offer. In the spirit of the day.”

Twenty minutes later they were moving from the front seats of Stevie’s car to the back. Their mouths met again and David slid his—somehow still freezing—hands beneath her shirt and over her breasts.

She swung around so she was straddling David. She nipped her way down his throat, feeling it rumble as he said: “Your car smells really bad.”

Stevie nodded. “I know, shut up.” She dragged her fingers through his hair.

“Okay, but like really bad though.”

Stevie leaned back against the front seat. “Jesus, fine, if I give you a handy will you shut up?”

David thoughtfully looked around her sloppy car. He was taking far too long to answer and Stevie slapped his arm.

“Really, David?”

“Okay, fine.” He leaned forward and nuzzled her nose with his. “Merry—”

“Shut _up_.”

“Do you have hand sanitizer?”

Stevie rolled her eyes and grabbed sanitizer out of her bag

“You’re spending Boxing Day by yourself.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/corvidapocalypse)


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